


Heavenwards

by entanglednow



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angelic Upskirt, Corporations How Do They Work, Crowley Is Curious (Good Omens), Garden of Eden, Humor, M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Surprises, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27875730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: In which the Serpent of Eden visits interesting places, and learns some new things.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 100
Kudos: 438





	Heavenwards

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a sketch by sidetrek, and then encouraged by chamyl, who made helpful suggestions that I couldn't help but run with.

It's raining again.

Crawly has decided that he's not a fan of the rain. When he's in his corporation the water sticks both his robes and hair to his skin, and leaves his legs covered in mud and bits of grass. It's not much better in his snake form, where he ends up skidding on the wet ground, and it makes sliding up the wall to see what the angel's doing far more difficult than it needs to be.

Crawly finds himself seeing what the angel is doing rather a lot.

He doesn't even bother to hide himself in a tree anymore, he just slithers or saunters over to join him. Which no longer feels quite as reckless as it had at the beginning. Though he still carefully tests how close he can get before he's noticed. The angel - Aziraphale - doesn't seem to mind the company, and he always has a smile for Crawly.

No one has ever had a smile for Crawly before.

Aziraphale is on the wall now, a speck of white robes and feathers fluttering in the wind. He's not bothering to lift his wings to shelter him from the rain - not like he'd done for Crawly the first time they met, when he'd let him lean in close enough to feel the faint brush of a wingtip against the arch of his own.

The angel hadn't noticed.

The rain doesn't seem to be hitting Aziraphale though, the droplets are curving around him instead, leaving his robes and the patch of ground beneath him free of wet spots. Crawly thinks that's quite naughty of him, using a miracle to keep himself dry. If She wanted the rain to fall in Eden then it stands to reason that She wanted it to fall on everything in it.

Such a curious angel.

Crawly lets himself slowly slide back and forth up the side of the wall, gripping onto the smooth wet stones with hard demonic scales until he reaches the top and pulls himself over.

Aziraphale hasn't seen him yet. He's staring off into the distance - in the direction Adam and Eve had gone across the desert - he looks like he's thinking. Crawly finds that he'd very much like to know what he's thinking about.

He manages to get very close with no reaction, and from his position on the ground Crawly notices that the angel's feet are no longer bare. He's made some flat strappy things for them, with a bit of twisted bark tucked between his toes so they go with him wherever he walks. That's quite clever, Crawly decides, no more mud in your toes, no more grass stains, no more finding bits of squashed fruit on your heel. Nature can get into the strangest places on these corporations.

He lets his tongue slide out, lets it brush the damp stone next to Aziraphale's smooth, rounded ankle. The taste of angel is not as strong through the rain, but Crawly thinks he might have already committed it to memory.

He hasn't been noticed yet.

The angel's stance is quite wide and the space between his feet, beneath the flutter of his robe, is warm and dry. Maybe he wouldn't notice if Crawly just slithered some of himself into it. Curled up away from the wind and the rain for a bit. His head at least. The angel seems...he seems kind, so even if he did notice perhaps he wouldn't mind? Maybe he'd even talk to Crawly some more.

He draws the heavy bulk of himself closer, as quietly as he can manage. It's difficult, there are so many tiny stones and the wall is abrasive enough to make a long rushing noise as he works his scales against it. But the rain is drowning out most of it.

His head slips under the drift of white fabric, where the stone is still dry. The angel's ankles are joined by calves and shins, which are covered with pale, soft-looking hair. They stretch upwards and Crawly can't help the way he tips his head to follow them.

Oh.

The angel's thighs are wide and solid, the pale hair dusting there too, they lead up to the curves of the angel's bare buttocks, plush and round - like the peaches that grow in the garden. The peaches he'd seen the angel lift and bite, humming enjoyment, sweetness rolling down his chin. Aziraphale had offered Crawly a piece and he hadn't been able to speak, he'd just made noises in his throat like his voice box had broken. Crawly had thought he'd done it on purpose. But when he'd watched him later, from where he'd wrapped himself crossly around the bough of a tree, Aziraphale was still doing it, even when no one was watching him. As if he didn't _know_ , as if he was doing it by accident.

Could you tempt someone by accident? Crawly felt like he should know the answer to that.

But the rounded shape of the angel's buttocks isn't the only thing beneath the robes. The warm space between his thighs leads to an unexpected curve of balls, soft and heavy looking where they hang, and draped over them is the plump thickness of a cock.

Crawly is so surprised he stops moving completely, neck twisted up at an impossible angle. He'd assumed that the angel was sexless underneath his robes. They were all designed to be after all. These bodies could look human but they weren't meant to _be_ human, they weren't meant to combine or reproduce. They were immortal and eternal, human genitals were unnecessary, like nipples and navels.

But the angel had given himself some anyway.

Crawly had made some of his own bits, of course he had, he was a curious demon and he liked to know how things worked. He'd even had a prod at them both, which was a lot easier in human form than with scales. But he was a demon, he was _supposed_ to know things and do things that weren't allowed. And he figured it would be a good way to thumb his nose at Her, putting his grubby demonic hands all over bits intended for her human experiments. Putting them to demonic uses...he assumed?

It was fine, nice enough, if sort of brief and a bit messy.

He'd never expected to find the angel sporting human genitals. To have them tucked away beneath his robes. Crawly had tried this one himself, he'd touched it, squeezed it and rubbed it - and now he can't help wondering if they would feel the same.

Aziraphale shifts a little and his cock jiggles, swaying gently. Crawly can't help the way his tongue thrashes out. Pulling in the scent of angel skin and heat and something deeper, something earthy and visceral that drags over his belly scales like a hand.

His flickering tongue touches the back of Aziraphale's knee.

"Oh." There's another jolt, one that he'd caused this time. The legs part further, balls and cock swaying between, and Crawly finds his lower half giving several tugging drags on the stone, trying to curl upwards, before he makes it stop. 

" _Crawly_ , what on earth are you doing down there?"

He's been caught.

Crawly flicks his tongue out of the front of the robe - not guiltily, he's done nothing wrong, course he hasn't. He lets his head squirm past the soft white fabric, then twists his neck enough to look up, at where the angel is peering down at him, confused and a touch affronted.

"Staying out of the rain," he says honestly. He can't smile in this form, and showing his teeth isn't the same, he settles for letting the angel see the stretch of his mouth, and offers what he hopes is a friendly tongue flutter.

Aziraphale's wings stretch briefly outwards, as if to test the air outside his protective miracle.

"It stopped a few moments ago," he says. "So it looks an awful lot like lurking out of sight to me." His face looks disappointed, as if he'd expected better.

Crawly honestly doesn't know whether to be annoyed about that or not. It stings in a way that makes him want to hiss, but it also makes him want to curl up in his coils and protect his underside. Too confusing to deal with right now. He wriggles a bit more of himself out from between Aziraphale's feet.

"I wasn't _lurking_. What sort of an accusation is that?" He tips his snout up and slithers around the angel's ankle, before slipping out sideways with as much of an air of huffiness as he can manage.

Aziraphale sighs. "Crawly, really, you can't be - be slithering about under my robes, we're hereditary enemies, what will that look like?"

"I got wet in the rain," Crawly explains, because it's the truth and he's learning that the truth is very helpful if you use it at exactly the right moment. "I was just looking for somewhere warm and dry to wait it out. I wasn't doing anything nefarious." He doesn't even have to try hard to look wounded by the angel's accusations. Because of course the angel would think that since he's a demon he's going to be up to something. "It was cold," he adds. That's not a lie either, nor is it showing weakness, it's just a statement of fact.

Aziraphale blinks down at his wet scales, and Crawly attempts to look like an innocent demon who'd been wrongfully accused of fiendish activities. He's had no practice but he thinks he does alright. The angel's frown goes soft and guilty.

"Oh, that does make sense." Aziraphale sighs, the space between his eyes pinching in a way that looks pained. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume you were up to no good. It's just, I'm at something of a loss since they both left. Nothing's really been explained to me. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do now." He wrings his hands briefly, before shaking the skirts of his robe out. "Well, I suppose it'll be alright, but just until the rain dries out though."

Crawly tilts his snout curiously when Aziraphale steps over him.

"Just until -?"

He watches the angel sink down to sit cross-legged on the dry stone beneath him. Then, before he can offer any more words, there are warm hands on his scales, gripping gently and lifting him. Crawly has never been touched, let alone _lifted_ before, the slow stroke and squeeze as his coils are collected and held is a feeling he hasn't found words for yet.

"Wha?" He flails a little. Is this an attack? It doesn't feel like an attack.

"Pardon me," Aziraphale says politely. Then he lifts his robes out of his lap and settles Crawly's startled serpentine body underneath them, the whole damp, chilly length of him spilling across the warmth and the softness of the angel's bare thighs, rounded stomach and soft genitals.

"Ngk."

Aziraphale drops the white fabric over his head, the stretch of it pressing Crawly's heavy coils down into the heat of his skin, and then he pulls the skirt over his knees.

"But no squirming, I've discovered that I'm a mite ticklish."

"Fnrgh," Crawly manages from beneath the heavenly material.


End file.
